The Hungry
by J.Rease
Summary: It was the hunger. The all-consuming urge to eat; the insatiable need to devour. The remaining members of New Directions were all so unsuspecting; so unprepared. The infected were growing. No one could be trusted. No one was safe. The world goes to hell…and the hungry are starving. Please read Author's Notes
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Hungry  
Author: J Rease  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Extreme violence, angst, gore, death, and cannibalism. Random round robin style POV.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the concept.  
Summary: It was the hunger. The all-consuming urge to eat; the insatiable need to devour. The remaining members of New Directions were all so unsuspecting; so unprepared. The infected were growing. No one could be trusted. No one was safe. The world goes to hell…and the hungry are starving.

Author's Note: I was going to post this fic in its entirety. It is finally finished, however, I wrote most of this out by hand. Consequently, I am posting a chapter a week (every Tuesday), until this fic is completely typed up.

This fic is based loosely on an actual disease. It is caused by an infectious protein (prion) found in contaminated human brain tissue.

Kuru (also known as: The Shiver, The Laughing Sickness, or Human Mad Cow Disease):

Kuru is found among people from New Guinea who practiced a form of cannibalism in which they ate the brains of dead people as part of a funeral ritual.  
Symptoms of Kuru include:  
Arm and leg pain  
Victims are emotionally unstable, depressed, yet having uncontrolled sporadic laughter  
Coordination problems that become severe  
Difficulty walking  
Headaches  
Fever  
Swallowing difficulty (final stages)  
Tremors, extreme shaking and muscle spasms  
Insanity

I am using artistic license here… and I am mutating the crap out of Kuru.

Feedback is appreciated.

**The Hungry**

Her sheets were wet when she woke up. It was damp and unpleasant and it was what she first felt when she spread her hands slowly across the sheets, slick with her sweat. She was hot. Sometime during the night she'd kicked off her covers; they were lodged against the wall her bed was pushed against. She groaned. She didn't feel well. Her skin was on fire and she felt dizzy when she tried to stand. She sat back down. She tried again, and she wobbled to her bathroom to wash her face. When she cupped the cool water spilling from the faucet, her hands shook, and she tried her best to make them stay long enough to gather the liquid slipping through her unstable fingertips. When she finally did, she splashed the water onto her burning cheeks and she leaned against the sink until she felt the room stop spinning.

She dragged her heavy body down the stairs, and she pulled onto a stool as her grandmother shifted slowly about the kitchen. The television played at full volume in the mornings. When her grandma got up to make breakfast, she was usually listening to the news. Today was no different. She folded her arms on the cool countertop and let her head fall sluggishly on top of them. Her stomach growled. Her grandma set a plate of hash browns in front of her, and she sat up slowly before trying to steady her hand around the fork. It trembled. She carved off a corner before shoving it in her mouth. She chewed for a few seconds and she tried to swallow. It scratched down her throat like gravel, so she pushed the plate away from her before resting her cheek flat against the countertop. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and she tried to stop her quivering body.

She heard her grandma moving around the kitchen, and the noises of her cooking seemed to sooth her as she hugged herself. Things begin to blur as she heard the news, disrupting the ease that came with the familiar sounds of home.

"_A new strain of what scientists believe to be mad cow disease has surfaced in Ohio, today. The CDC has reported nearly four dozen reports of the illness, and are warning anyone who is experiencing symptoms see a medical professional as soon as possible."_

Another voice ricocheted into her eardrums, deeper—louder.

"_That's right, Jane. If you are experiencing fever, sensitivity to light, vomiting or violent shaking fits, please see your health care provider, immediately. There are emergency medical stations currently surrounding multiple highway routes. If you cannot seek help from your doctor, there will be trained professionals there to help as well. Please see our website for details."_

She tried to swallow. Her hands seemed to vibrate against her sides. She closed her eyes. She focused. Her grandmother was humming, and it was comforting her enough that she finally steadied the shaking. She breathed deep before standing, and she limped back to her room with intentions of getting ready for school. She wasn't sick. She just wasn't.

She made it through her shower. She made it to school and through the beginning of the day. She felt sluggish, but it was an easy day, and she could make it through. It took about an hour— for the feeling to stir. It crept into her senses like her mother's apple pie and it made her stomach growl and her jaw clench when she inhaled… hungry. By lunch, no amount of tots could make the feeling go away and by fourth period, she was heaving it all back up, with ebony chunks of something that felt like her insides into the toilet in the second floor bathroom.

She wasn't sick. She just wasn't. She thought she felt better since the morning. When her appetite came back, she thought the feeling she woke up with wouldn't bother her again. And even though every breath she took was painful, each inhale brought back an intense hunger. By the end of the school day, the need to eat was as insatiable as ever.

She had this craving for something… specific. She smelled it all around her and she kept searching for that something that might satisfy the need to consume. When she finally got home, her grandma was in her rocking chair, eating diagonally cut sandwiches in front of the television. There was a heavenly smell in the house. It reminded her of when her mother made fried ham sandwiches. She sat down beside her grandmother. She took one of the sandwiches and bit into it. It was salty and wet. Not quite chicken and not really pork. She took another bite. The nausea in her stomach cleared. She wasn't sick. Not anymore.

"Grandma what's in this sandwich?"

Her grandmother turned to look at her, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to, Mercedes."

She took another bite anyway, somewhat upset that it was almost gone now. Her grandmother started giggling beside her, fits of laughter shook at the older woman's shoulders. The giggles peeled around the room, reverberating off the walls and bouncing back over the noise of her chewing. The meat was thick, a dark brown with marks that came from grilling. She took the last bite of the sandwich before licking her fingers. Her grandmother was sitting still now, little bursts of laughter slipped past her lips.

"Was it good, Mercy?"

She nodded. Her grandmother started laughing again, standing and doubling over before moving to the basement door. Her grandmother was shaking violently with laughter, her hand thrown over her clenching stomach, smuggled somewhere beneath her bust. She shuffled past her, and walked over to the cellar door, her face shockingly serious through her chuckling.

"Well, let's have some more, chile."

Her grandmother threw open the door and waddled down the cellar stairs. She looked at the empty plate on the table in front of her, and stood up to follow her into the basement. Her grandmother was standing in front of the laundry table, her back to her. The lights were off, and she strained to see what she was doing in the dark. There was this wet sawing sound, and it gnawed through something hard and thick. Her father's tools lined the tackle boards in the basement, and she didn't know which ones were out of place. Her grandmother's elbows were moving, and she could hear the drip drop of something falling into a puddle. She pulled on the cord dangling from cellar ceiling and shrank back as the dark space was illuminated. Her grandmother turned around, her father's saw clutched in one hand, her Daddy's brown skinned forearm hanging grotesquely from the other.

"Let's have some more…let's have more…"

000 0000 000

The television woke her up. Santana was tangled up in Brittany and they were sprawled out on her bed, night time still outside her window. Their limbs crisscrossed and their bodies were pressed close together. They fell asleep watching Dirty Dancing earlier that night. Brittany hadn't even made it to the climax of the movie, because she was too tired to stay awake for her favorite part. She dozed off watching Brittany sleep sometime after. She didn't want to move to turn the television off, so she closed her eyes and tried her best to sleep over the sounds emitting from the set.

Minutes passed and infomercials rang annoyingly in her ears. Brittany kicked off the comforter before snuggling into the crook of her neck, her long arms naturally wrapped around Santana's torso. Nope, she was fine right there, no matter how loud the t.v. seemed; she was definitely not moving. She could feel Brittany's breath tickling her neck, and she felt the heavy thrum of Brittany's heart against her stomach. Nope, she wasn't moving. She focused on Brittany's even breathing, trying to distract herself long enough to drift back to sleep.

There was a loud, jarring noise that came from her television. She opened her eyes. The infomercial had been interrupted, and Rod Roddington straightened his tie before being cued to the camera. His face wasn't as ridiculously pompous as it usually was; he even looked a bit nervous.

"_Good evening western Ohio, Rod Roddington here with breaking news. The CDC has declared an epidemic. What was first believed to be a new strain of Mad Cow disease has been identified as an aggressive strain of Kuru. Kuru is caused when human remains are ingested by other human beings. The FDA has launched an immediate investigation into the contaminated food supply, as reports from the infected pour in. If you are experiencing dizziness, loss of motor function, bouts of uncontainable laughter, and uncontrollable urges to consume—" _

The television set blinked off. The rainbow channel sign flashed boldly back at her seconds later. It was quiet, and the bright light glaring from the television hadn't been enough to wake up Brittany. She was tired. It was still night time outside. Maybe if she just closed her eyes, she'd finally be able to get some sleep.

000 0000 000

Seventy-five percent of the student body hadn't come to school. Quinn thought it was odd. The few of them who were there drifted to non-stop study hall periods lead by the six staff members who bothered to attend. Everyone knew why most of the students and staff stayed home, but there was no more news to go on. Everyone was suddenly sick, and those who weren't dragged aimlessly through the day; tense. Mr. McCoy was at the front of the class room. He was leafing shakily through yesterday's newspaper, sweating heavily in his seat.

Rachel was sitting beside her. Two years ago, that would have been a major offense. But it was senior year, and she had so many things to make up for. Their friendship had been cautious at first. And when she and Finn got closer it seemed like Rachel would never come back around. But she did; and it got easier to just be herself around the tiny brunette. She'd made a lot of friends from glee. Friends like Mike and Tina who were sitting in front of her. Friends like Brittany and Santana who were whispering to each other behind her. Two girls who would always be her friends. It was funny that they were clustered together; that there was some sense of security in their little group. They've been distracting themselves with the comfort of each other's company; they were forcing things to be as normal as they could right now. No one else from glee was there, but they've been sending messages to the missing and still no word came through. They could only assume at this point, that those who weren't there were among the sick.

"Quinn… have you heard anything from—"

Quinn was mildly annoyed at how many times Rachel had asked her that today.

"No, Rachel… Finn and Kurt haven't responded to my texts yet. Once again, I don't know why you think either of them would actually—"

"No talking Miss Fabray! If you have nothing to do I will gladly give you something."

She shook her head in the negative, and shot a warning glare to Rachel. She'd run out of busy work during second period. Mr. McCoy was loosening his tie. He let the red material slide off his neck and he fisted it in his palm. He stood disjointedly. He paced in front of his desk toward the window, and he doubled back twice before facing the class.

"I have perfect attendance. Did you all know that? I have come to this hellhole every single day for the last seventeen years to teach the same lessons. All of your faces… they're the same. If I've known one, I've known them all. I hate my job so much… but I've never missed a single day! Not one!"

Some people jumped in their seats. Mr. McCoy usually taught biology. He was _usually_ quiet and uninterested… a veteran teacher. He stood in front of the class; his head directed toward the floor and his hands teetered at his sides; unstable.

"When I got up this morning… I didn't feel well. But I couldn't miss school—you all needed me here, so I came. Ha! I came!"

The bubbling laughter that followed bounced off the floor and rebounded around the quiet classroom. It was a sick sound. It sounded like coffee grinders smashing orange peels. There was an unsettling thickness to his cackling, it seemed to stick to the inside of her ear canal and it tickled the hairs she was sure were standing up. He had melancholia in his eyes... like the laughter hurt as it came out. He was giggling at the head of the room, drops of sweat dripping down the sides of his temples. He grabbed his growling stomach before walking down the aisle. The laughter grew louder, and Mr. McCoy stopped abruptly beside Azimio Adams, before sinking down to stoop beside the desk.

The laughter stopped immediately.

No one was moving. It was deathly quiet in the room. Mr. McCoy was vibrating against the desk, his shoulders shaking and his eyes dazed over. The class sat on the edge of their seats, waiting for him to move; waiting for the proverbial jack in the box to launch and cackle in their faces. He was staring blankly at Azimio, who seemed to shrink further into his chair. Mr. McCoy blinked before smiling slowly, he smiled like he knew something none of them knew; it was unnerving. The last thing she registered was the intake of breath from Azimio before Mr. McCoy shot forward to bite into the thick flesh of his neck. The screaming pierced her ears soon after, and she could only see red and pink as bits of flesh tore from the side of Azimio's face. She was frozen at the sight, and she could only acknowledge the gurgling sounds of Azimio choking on his own blood.

Someone was pulling her from where she sat. Someone with strong arms was ripping her from her seat and rushing away from the gore. There was so much screaming and all of the students were scrambling and she was being carried off by some strong force that wouldn't leave her behind. All she heard was screams and closing doors. _Screams and her pounding heart_. Quinn was being held by the waist against a muscular hip, being dragged off to somewhere hopefully safer than this.

The last door closed and it enveloped her in silence; silence and darkness. They were hiding. She was put down softly on the floor. Two strong hands shook her shoulders lightly. When she dragged her eyes from her hero's chest she saw Mike Chang. He was standing in front of her. She couldn't hear him speaking but his mouth made shapes that rounded into the familiar contours of her name.

Quinn tried to focus on him, and not the closing walls of the tiny room. Wide open spaces couldn't stop the feeling of dread from closing over her heart. They had to get out. They had to get out now.

000 0000 000

For the first time in his life, Michael Chang was unprepared. His mother had taken ill the day before, and his father took her to one of the medical stations set up along the outskirts of Lima. When he woke up that morning, he was still alone, left only with his worries. He coaxed himself into going to school... but the urge to attend was primarily out of habit.

He'd been unprepared for what Mr. McCoy did to Azimio. But when it happened, instinct kicked in and he took action. The girls all shot out of their seats at the first sight of blood— all of them except for Quinn. Santana and Brittany were the first into action. Tina was instantly by his side. Rachel was tugging on Quinn's sweater sleeve, trying to get the blonde to move before Mr. McCoy got _full_. But Quinn was glued to her seat; watching slack jawed at the gruesome scene playing out before them. He picked her up and dragged her away, just as Mr. McCoy licked his fingers clean of Azimio's blood. Just before a satisfied smile settled on his contorted face. He started running, calling out to the girls to follow him. And he led them there, to this empty classroom with no other plans but to be quiet and remain unseen.

If that was what Kuru was... it was what his mother had. He hoped to himself that the hospital had something... anything that would bring her back from the madness he'd just witnessed firsthand. He pinched his arm slightly... hoping that this nightmare would be one he woke from soon.

Brittany and Santana were by the door, surveying the running students and few faculty members heading toward the gory classroom they'd just left. He watched Santana lock the door knob and push away from the glass. He saw a quick flash of Figgins with his walkie-talkie; sprinting ahead toward the chaos. He gripped Quinn's shoulders, and he tried his best to get her to come from the place she'd retreated to. They couldn't be there... not right now.

"We have to get out of here. If McCoy came to school like that... there's no telling who else could be sick."

"That wasn't being sick, Chang, that was freaking cannibalism. And no shit we have to leave, but where? We need somewhere safe. Somewhere we can keep those people out."

"What about the basement here? There are a lot of doors that lock from the inside down there. Maybe we could hide out?"

Santana shook her head.

"There's like no food down there. And I am sure the teachers have keys... if they come looking we'd be stuck."

"There's the supermarket next to the 7 eleven. They had the windows barred after Puck's atm stunt last year. It was empty when I drove by earlier."

Everyone stared at Quinn, who seemingly snapped out of whatever shock she'd been in. He let his hands drop from her shoulders.

Rachel was the first to speak.

"That should work. Food, supplies... security. But... what if they're in there too?"

For the first time in his life, he was unprepared. But there was nothing he could do now, but lead.

"I guess... I guess we figure that out when we get there. If it isn't safe, we just find somewhere else. But we have to do it quick."

He didn't think he was prepared for anything they might see on the way. But he hoped they had time... he prayed they had time.

000 0000 000

It was raining. It was raining in March and the run to Mike's SUV was one of the coldest showers Tina had ever taken. Everyone else had opted to leave their cars at the school…it was better to stay together. She sat beside her boyfriend as they drove... shivering in the passenger seat with her hand locked with his. This... this couldn't be happening. This wasn't a sickness... it was something worse. She was terrified. There were so many thoughts in her mind. Where were her parents? Did they know? Were they looking for her? She wanted to tell Mike to check. But she knew that the time they had could very well be their saving grace.

The rain was pouring in torrents. It was hard to watch the blur cascading down the windshield without getting lost in her thoughts. All the things she would have done differently if only she'd known what this was. Kuru. The news channels were all on the emergency broadcast system by the time she got up. The U.S. emblem blazed boldly on her laptop screen when she tried to search CNN before leaving for school. They were in the dark.

When she tried to call her out of state relatives that morning, the tri-tone beeps sounded in her ear, before informing her that her call could not be completed. She called Mike right after, and it worked, before asking him to pick her up for school. There was no news since the night before. Only speculation and waiting.

"Tina... come on, we're here." He squeezed her hand.

It was still raining. It was raining harder even as they all jumped out of Mike's car and walked to the loud chiming doors of the market. It was deserted, thankfully, and the only person in the store sat idly behind a magazine, chewing gum loudly by the last counter next the mounted television set in the corner.

As they all approached, the magazine the clerk was holding dropped quickly to her lap.

"Sugar? Why weren't you at school?"

"Hey you guys! Daddy told me to watch the store since Pablo didn't show up for work today. We haven't had customers like... since forever, I've been bored out-"

The television set blinked off standby. The President shifted in his seat before gravely setting his features. They all huddled around the set, ready for any kind of news regarding the virus that was suddenly at their doorstep.

_"Good afternoon, America. As parts of the nation pick up their children from school, and others make the commute home from work, the East Coast is being flanked with outbreaks of the lethal virus, Kuru. The FDA has been investigating all sources of beef imports, and a culprit has been identified. Due to lax sanitation restrictions, British importers have been feeding their cattle human remains to cut costs on animal meal. Because of their corner cutting, all beef supplies shipped to eastern U.S. soil for at least the last year have been contaminated and consumed by the American people. As reports of outbreaks rise, the government can only declare a state of emergency. The Kuru virus spreads by getting into the blood stream. Proteins aggravate the hypothalamus gland and renders the infected unable to control their hunger. Through their dementia, the need to consume human flesh becomes undeniable, as they try to keep human prions in their systems to prolong their survival. If you are experiencing extreme sudden depression, bouts of laughter, uncontrollable shaking and fever, please go to one of the designated medical stations we have commissioned. The CDC is working non-stop to find an incubation agent to postpone the ill effects of the virus, so we can cure the thousands who are inflicted. Stay inside, and if you come in contact with an infected person, do not engage them. Do not let them bite you. Any bodily fluids transferred into the bloodstream will spread the infection. We will be working diligently from the white house to ensure your safety. May God bless America, may He have mercy on us all." _

The t.v. blinked back to the emergency broadcast system. They stood around the cash register, Sugar blankly stared back at them, wide eyed. The rain stopped; and the giant glass windows were slowly clearing up. Tina was momentarily lost, not completely aware of what was happening. When she blinked, she could see in the distance a solitary figure, draped in a wet, tattered hospital gown. He was standing right across the main street, a bloody surgical saw dangled from the cord in his left hand. From his vantage point, he watched them. He watched them, and then he smirked.

"You guys... maybe we should lock up the store."

They all turned to look at where Tina was pointing; where the tall figure stood, waiting. He had blood on his chin, and she could almost pick out vestiges of flesh sitting above his goatee. He was shaking slightly, the saw in his hand jerking on the string. He was one of _them_. He was one of the infected and he had been watching them from under an awning across the street from the supermarket. When he took his first step off the pavement, Mike rushed quickly to the front of the store to lock the double doors. The infected man smiled widely before taking a second step, his eyes somewhat locked with all of theirs simultaneously. They would have to kill him if he tried to get into the store. He took another step, somewhat elated with the thought of torturing them slowly. He was in full view when he took his next step. They would have to kill the man who ran the hardware store on Main street. Mr. Hampton... _who now had Kuru_. He took another step. They were going to have to kill this man... even though she thought that none of them would be able to.

He took two steps more...

Her heart was pumping in her chest. She didn't know what he would do. She quickly thought about how easy the glass windows could shatter if he threw that saw through one of them. She thought about Azimio and all that blood. She thought about what it would feel like to be eaten... to be eaten alive.

He was almost to their side of the street. No one else was moving. What would he do? What could he do? One step more-

No one heard the pickup truck coming, apparently Mr. Hampton hadn't either. The impact was enough noise to force them all into action. They scrambled around the store, all of them quickly aware of the severity of their situation, of the danger. The pickup truck kept going, and Quinn made her way to the glass window to make sure that he was dead. She watched his unmoving body for a few moments before nodding to herself and walking away.

He wouldn't get back up, Tina thought to herself. They weren't zombies. No... zombies would have made things a lot easier.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I had to relist this with a second character. Got a few emails about people not seeing it on the general search. Anyway, I'll probably alternate it by character since a lot of people are going to be included in this fic. Also- word count for last chapter and this chapter is a bit off. Please review.

Chapter Two:

There were three entrances to the market owned by Sugar Motta's father. There was the front door, the side door, and the loading bay out back. Mike closed all the metal riot shutters in front of the doors and windows, and locked them from the inside. The loading bay had a lifting button controlled garage door that she and Sugar blocked with cinderblocks from the hardware aisle. The side door had a sliding window, and it was made of a heavy, thick metal that locked by slide and bolt. There was one window above the main door, and it had heavy duty iron bars on the outside. Even with a ladder, no one would be able to slip through without alerting them. Mike went outside and parked his SUV by the side door, in case they had to get away. After Tina announced that they should lock up the store, Mike took the lead. He put her in charge of organization. Something she was good at. She had her clip board, and she had her checklists. She was Rachel Berry. She could do anything in a neat and organized fashion. When Mike realized that all of the others had formal jobs to tend to, he asked Sugar to show her around the store.

Sugar showed her the surveillance room first. There were three monitors set up on the big metal desk, all of them giving a different vantage point around the perimeter of the store. A press of a button showed what was happening in the loading bay and down the majority of the lanes inside of the market. She made lists of all of their names with the copy machine in the pharmacy of the store. They would all take three hour shifts to monitor activity. Sugar led her to the basement next, and she notified Brittany and Santana that it would be the safest place to sleep. There was a lock on the inside of the stairwell door that would keep them secure if the store was compromised. When she informed Brittany and Santana, the Cheerios set off to find bedding for their makeshift sleeping quarters.

Sugar showed her the customer bathrooms next, and then her father's office and private bathroom. She took her down the household items aisle after that, and together they gathered anything they could use as weapons. They took those to Quinn, who started sorting their arsenal of kitchen knives, baseball bats and hammers. Everyone seemed to need the work. To keep their minds off things and stay busy. They were all worried about people outside of the market. They were all worried that they might never see their loved ones again.

She hadn't seen her fathers since last Tuesday. They were in Dayton for the week, visiting her Uncle John and Aunt Tammy. Calling them proved futile, as it did with almost everyone important in her contacts, so she waited for word from them before she let her mind jump to any conclusions.

It seemed surreal; that they were here, the seven of them putting together a citadel against the infected. She was here without Finn. Without her best friends Kurt and Mercedes; without her fathers. She was in here and they were out there and she couldn't stop the thoughts of them being infected from bombarding her mind.

"What are you thinking about?"

Sugar was simple. She had no filter and she had an odd sense of empathy. She hated Sugar for it in that moment. But this was something she had to keep to herself. Right now, she needed to be strong. Strong, optimistic, and hopeful. She couldn't ruin the morale of the people she was in this with. Especially when they didn't know how long they would be here. Because if there was nothing left after this... everything they were preparing for wouldn't be worth it.

So she lied.

"... nothing really."

Sugar nodded enthusiastically.

"Look... I know it sucks. Like, people eating people. I get that it's all sad and scary and stuff. But you have this bite your lip thing going and it's confusing because I can't tell if you're making that face because you're bothered by something or if you ate something bad and it's not agreeing with you. But whatever it is... it's making me nervous."

She lets out a sigh. She won't be pessimistic about this. She won't make others feel that way too. Sugar is looking at her like she's expecting an answer so she decides to answer with the first thing that comes to mind.

"I just... it's hard to know who to trust. Anybody can be infected. It's not like they're just empty bodies. Anybody could be infected out there and... that just bothers me a little."

Sugar nods again, before dumping more cutlery into the shopping cart they took from the front of the store. She finished and turned back to the shelf before spinning on her heel to face her again.

"Well that's easy. Let's make a test. So if anyone comes and they try to make us think they're okay, we make them do the test... and if they pass we can let them in"

It was brilliant, the idea. And she looked down at her clipboard and wondered why she hadn't thought of that herself. Of course, as long as no one knew they were hiding there, the test would remain unnecessary. Suddenly she realized that all of glee knew where they were. Well, she knew that she sent messages to Finn, Kurt and Mercedes. She knew that Quinn has been calling Noah since they left the school. She bit her lip, realizing that a test is exactly what they would need. At least they would know... at least they wouldn't make the mistake of trusting the wrong people.

She rushed to one of the registers at the front of the aisle. She searched around for a moment before finding the little device. She pressed the button until static blared over the intercom.

"Testing, testing one two. Ehem. Group meeting at register one!"

She put the loudspeaker radio down, suddenly feeling a bit better about being there... and staying safe. And besides... she had always wanted to do that.

000 0000 000

When she heard the hobbit over the loudspeaker, she assumed it would be for some self-gratifying announcement or annoying optimistic pep talk. She and Brittany had just set up the bedding in the basement supply room. They'd been there since everyone split up. They'd carted sleeping bags, comforters, foam bed sleeves and pillows from the linen aisle in the market. They wound up making a huge bed, somewhere all of them could sleep. She and Britts wouldn't have much privacy, but she felt safer knowing that there would always be someone there to watch their backs.

When she finally made it to the front of the market, everyone was crowded around Sugar and Rachel. They were all talking over each other, and it took Santana two hand claps to calm them all down.

"What's going on?"

Sugar beamed at her.

"Well, since I'm amazing and so much smarter than you guys, I came up with an idea for a door test."

She was confused when Berry rolled her eyes before continuing.

"Well, the side door is the only door we can open without pulling up the shudders. Sugar pointed out that if people we contacted earlier decide to come for help, they should have to pass the test before we let them in."

It actually made sense.

"Okay then Berry, what's the test?"

She watched Sugar cross her arms and mutter a quick "It was my idea..." before Rachel could answer. Rachel ignored the petulant Sugar and turned to everyone else huddled around register one.

"Well, maybe they have to keep their hands still for a full minute. Didn't the president mention extreme shaking? And they can't laugh. If I was stuck outside with a bunch of maniacs, I'd be terrified. If their hand can't stay still, or they can't stop giggling, then they stay outside."

She liked that idea. She liked knowing who they would let in, if anyone. She had to protect Brittany. She had to make sure they got through this together.

"Alright, Berry. That actually sounds pretty smart. What about strangers? And what if someone's been bitten, they won't automatically have those symptoms right? Technically someone in here could have been bitten and we wouldn't know it."

Everyone standing around her nodded in agreement. Quinn decided to offer an answer first.

"No strangers. We can't risk putting ourselves out there. We don't need them knowing we're in here. If we hear a knock, we check the surveillance room first, then decide if we go to the door. So... unless it's a relative or someone we know, and they aren't carrying arms with them for dinner, we don't even go to the side door."

Everyone nodded quietly.

"Well, what about the bites? How do we check?"

Brittany surprised everyone by speaking next.

"Strip searches."

If they weren't were they were right now, it would have been funny. It would have been something Brittany said in passing... to fill the awkward silence of their loud thought processes. But her baby was a genius. Brittany looked around at everyone, her eyebrows laced in confusion. Santana thought it was a great suggestion.

"I think that's fair."

They all looked at her, ready to disagree. Oddly enough, Tina spoke up before they could protest.

"Santana's right, you guys. Just think about someone getting in here. And they were bitten and we didn't know. It's too much of a risk to take. We don't know how long we are going to be here... so we have to be cautious. Anybody could have it. _Anybody_."

"Yea. Everyone's right. So how about strip searches... underwear on. Everyone bares skin now to prove nobody has been bitten. And any new comers will have to do it to be allowed in-"

Sugar interrupts Mike suddenly.

"What if they pass the shake test but they won't do the bite check? What then?"

Santana looked at Mike. She knew that he didn't have all the answers. But she was happy that he chose to take the lead. She wouldn't feel as safe as she did if anyone else took charge. He tapped his foot for a moment to think.

"They go into quarantine. There is a couch and bathroom in Mr. Motta's private office. We put a combo lock outside the door and give it a few days. If they don't try anything when we let them out... they're clear."

Everyone liked the arrangement. They'd seen too much today that they all know it's a necessity. They can't take a chance that someone they know might be infected. They can't trust anyone who wasn't here right now. Mike proposed that they head to bed soon, and he decided that the bite check should happen tonight.

She doesn't care about the body check. She's tired and her Cheerios uniform is still damp from the freezing rain they had to run through earlier. She needed to get this over with and snuggle up to Brittany until she fell asleep. She wanted to forget about the blood and the danger and... tomorrow. It was their first night there. She was sure she was going to count the days until they got to leave.

000 0000 000

Brittany was confused. For a long time, people made her think that believing in the unbelievable was wrong. That she was stupid and naïve for putting faith in magic. But she never let her faith dwindle. She kept believing in leprechauns and unicorns and everything else, because she was _right_. And as someone who wholeheartedly believed in things that others were too afraid to see, she knew that there was an opposite to all the things she believed in. She truly expected the other force to finally make itself known. If you asked her, people eating other people—people she used to trust and love—was a damn great example of the evil end of the magic spectrum. But Brittany didn't know what good would come from all this; what would save them all from becoming a part of the Kuru population. But she knew that she had to keep her faith in all things magical and just keep believing that this would all be worth it in the end.

It felt like today had been a dream. She remembered falling asleep in Santana's arms the night before, and she remembered how quiet the streets were when they left Santana's house for school that morning. There were no children walking the streets, the roads didn't have cars on them, and the morning rush was more like a morning lull in Lima. Brittany had instantly wanted to know where everyone was, and why it was so quiet. And then something bad happened with Azimio. She watched him die in that classroom and she witnessed the infection first hand. It all happened so fast. An entire population suddenly went on hiatus. She tried not to think about where her parents were. She tried not to get it in her head that they were already infected…or worse. She tried to tell herself that Lord Tubbington and Charity would find their way in the streets… and that animals were always safe in these kinds of worse case scenarios. She was glad she had Santana here with her. Because if Santana had gone missing like everyone else seemingly had, she wouldn't be as calm as she was now.

Brittany was glad they were preparing for this. She was actually happy that they were securing their space and getting ready for a big attack. She knew that the quiet would only last but so long before all hell broke loose. That's how it usually happened in movies, anyway. She let her hands lift up Rachel's arms, and she turned her body to and from to get a better look at her skin. She gave her a pat on her shoulder when she finished, and gave Mike the all clear from where he had his back turned in the corner of the room. Santana was next. She knew Santana's body better than anyone else's in the room. And she knew before searching that there would be no bite marks on her girlfriend's beautiful skin, especially since they'd been together for the last few days; inseparable as usual.

Santana was shivering. Her skin was cold to touch, but at the same time—she was sweating. Santana's bra and panties were still damp from the rain shower they ran through earlier, and Brittany wanted nothing more than to wrap her in a blanket and rock to sleep beside her. She gave Mike another "all clear" before letting Tina inspect her. Brittany stood still, trying to shake the chill of the basement off her skin as Tina surveyed for bite marks. There were none, as she suspected, and they all let out a breath of fresh air as the last clear was thrown at Mike. They were all free of infection. They were all safe. Quinn excused herself with her clothes to head to the security room to take her shift upstairs. She knew Quinn was more freaked out over having to be in the basement, and Brittany was glad when no one stopped her from leaving. She took a moment to look around the space as everyone got dressed.

There were shelves lining all the walls. There were food supplies and unopened storage boxes as well as a first aid kit down there. There was a large janitor's closet with a sink inside it, a drain in the middle of the floor. The space would be perfect if the store was ever overrun. She walked the rest of the shelves until stopping in front of one with folded jumpers on it. She unfolded a few until she eyed two of them that would fit, and she rushed over to Santana to give her one. Santana took off the last of her underwear beneath some blankets before wiggling into the very dry jumper and tucking herself deeper into the covers. It had been a long day. It had been their first day here. Brittany lay beside Santana, and let her body curve around the her girlfriends. She won't ever stop believing. Especially when they needed good magic more than ever.

000 0000 000

It had been three days. Quinn only knew that because she hadn't been asleep since she first arrived. She couldn't sleep in that basement. It was dank and there were no doors leading out other than the one at the top of the stairs and she hated that it was almost always closed. The giant bed was in the middle of the room, but no matter how many people were there with her, she still couldn't get over the suffocating feeling she got whenever she stepped off that last step. There was a small couch inside the security room, and she had a pillow and a blanket for whenever she decided to finally get some shut eye. She was tired, drained from the constant waiting. None of their phones rang. No one had knocked on the door. And for three entire days, she hadn't seen anyone else surrounding the building on the security cameras. It was eerie. Lima was no sprawling metropolis, but the disappearance of the city's residents had her on edge. Every minute had her waiting for hordes of the infected to somehow smell their flesh and devour them all.

The wait was almost as unbearable as the constant worry. There was no news, no radio broadcasts— nothing. They just found things to do in the market to keep them too busy to realize how screwed up this entire situation really was. No one brought up what happened three days ago out loud. It would be pointless to talk about something that none of them could change. It would be pointless to voice their concerns at all, really—when there weren't any infected pounding at their door, hungry. _When they weren't in any real danger_. It was quiet most of the time. They all chose to whisper conversations, afraid noises would alert any of the imaginary people wandering the streets. She sat in the security room most of the day to avoid everyone else. She'd taken over almost everyone else's shifts—just to have this time to herself without looking into the sad, troubled faces of her friends. Quinn didn't know how long things would be like this…but it had only been three days and she already felt like she would actually go insane.

With all this time and almost nothing to distract her, her mind kept wandering to her family. Not Judy or Russell, or her sister down in Texas. No, her mind always found thoughts of Beth. Of Shelby. They were still in Lima, last she checked, but Shelby hadn't been speaking to her since the child services debacle. She hoped that Beth was safe. She hoped that Shelby wasn't infected and had her little girl somewhere on a plate—that was usually when she would stop all the thoughts from crowding her head. Because Shelby was a good mother, and no matter what, she'd never do that to Beth. And then her mind would drift back to time. And how in 72 hours there hadn't been a word from a single soul on the outside.

She began reading the books on the five dollar rack at the front of the store on the second day. Most of them were cheesy romance novels, but she didn't mind since it seemed to take her mind off everything else. She read five books since then, and she realized that she had to slow down if they were going to be here for a while. She took up writing lists instead. It seemed to calm her anxiety, and it occupied the endless hours that seemed to tick by on the clock on the wall near the monitors. She made lists about where everyone could be right now, and she made lists of things she needed to gather, and weapons they could make out of a lot of household appliances in the store. She made lists of evacuation plans and lists for worst case scenarios. Just in case they needed them. She made lists and she read and she waited. It had only been three days, but it already felt like too long.

000 0000 000

Santana started a calendar. She put it by the television mounted to the wall up front. Rachel mentioned that they wouldn't need one, because the sun still shined through the window above the front door, and they all had cell phones and there were clocks almost everywhere in the market. Even still, Santana told her to mind her business when she marked off the fourth day on the calendar. Four days in, and they already had a routine. They woke up around the same time in the morning, and dispersed to wash their faces or brush their teeth in the two communal bathrooms in the store. Then came breakfast. They opted to not eat any of the beef products, and they roamed the aisles until they each found something suitable. They cooked at the hot food station behind the deli counter, and they ate at the table in the break room of the store. Quinn was the only exception to these communal activities, but Rachel tried her best to give the blonde time before pushing to get her out of her hiding place. In front of the pharmacy, Sugar had set up back pillows and other things to make a seemingly comfortable living space. And there were board games and magazines piled up beside it.

Luckily, she had her iPod in the backpack she took to school four days ago. She had a library of music to keep her company since everyone else seemed to be paired off. Sugar was too flaky for her to hang out with, and she'd tried to coax Quinn into coming out of the security room, but all she seemed to get in reply was Quinn's shaking head and the quiet click of the security room door. She'd been memorizing as many songs she could, walking the aisles of the store in search of entertainment.

It had been quiet for the last few days, all of them trying to keep busy until they decided what to do next. They were safer here than anywhere else. They had food and security and clean water and bathrooms. Everything had been the same since that first day, and all of them were patiently waiting for the routine to be interrupted. It happened in the middle of the day. It happened between song changes on her ipod in the middle of the fruit aisle. There was an incessant banging at the side door. It was a rushed, heavy noise that spurred on for a few seconds, stopped, and then started again. She pulled out her earplugs and tucked her music player in her skirt pocket. Everyone in her line of vision froze. This was it. The first test. The noise was followed soon after by a growling yell, the voice too familiar for her not to rush to the door without waiting for Quinn— Quinn who'd been in the surveillance room and for some reason hadn't come out yet. Rachel ran over to the side door and slid the window open to see Noah Puckerman on the other side. He was sweating; his mohawk was drenched and clinging to one side of his head, his face a ball of paranoia.

"Rachel, let me in—they're coming!"

She froze. Because for all she knew, this could be a trick. For all she knew, she could let him in and he could have Kuru. Sugar, Brittany, and Santana were suddenly surrounding her, waiting for her to make a decision. She decided to keep with the original plan. The plan that would keep them safe and hidden from the infected.

"You have to pass the test first, Noah. Hold out your hand and keep it steady for—"

"Fuck a test, Rachel! You have to let me in."

That's when she heard it. It started as a small whimper, and it gained momentum until it was a full on wail. Noah looked to his left, behind him, and to his right before he stepped back. He knocked off layers of blankets, and Rachel recognized matted blonde hair and next, the piercing eyes of Beth. Rachel saw that the crying toddler was strapped to his chest by a baby harness. The thick blankets were tucked tightly around and underneath her; her pink baby bag thrown diagonally over Noah's shoulder. She was shocked. Before he could walk back to the sliding window, she watched nervously as Noah's head turned abruptly to the left.

"Rachel... don't open the door yet."

It was a quiet warning. Noah had grunted it out without using his lips, his eyes frantically searched for something in the street. Santana was trying to move her over enough to get a glimpse at what was going on. She made room for her while Noah reached behind him, his eyes still trained on whatever caught his peripheral vision. She heard the gun before she saw it. There was a loud 'shuck' and 'click' of Noah fitting a clip into the hand gun. It was loud enough to challenge Beth, who was still crying, her face covered completely by the blanket she was sheathed in. She didn't know what Noah saw. He inched closer to the door, his eyes still trained on whatever was to his left. He took careful steps, and finally reached the door- swiveling around to flatten himself against the metal. His head was still turned, his gun still drawn.

"When I say so... unlock the door, Rach. Don't hesitate."

Santana moved away from the door, and gave Rachel a solid nod to get ready. She put her hand on the slide lock, and Santana got ready at the bolt beneath it. Rachel's eyes were glued to the back of Puck's head, and she could hear him as he breathed heavily through his nose. A different voice sounded from wherever Noah was staring.

"Come on, Puck... put the gun down. We're all friends here."

She knew that voice, too. She heard Puck shush Beth as he started bouncing, and he tried to get her to quiet long enough for him to answer.

"Keep your distance, Anderson. I won't think twice about putting a bullet in your brain."

Blaine laughed. She couldn't see him through that small window, but she knew that something bad was about to happen.

"Why are you so wet, Blaine? Hot and sweaty? What's with the medical gown? You and a few friends find your way out huh?"

"You should know...you were there too. And it's just you and me out here, Puck. How about you put the gun down, and we have a little talk?"

Rachel could only see Noah through the open window. Her hands shook as she gripped the lock; tense from waiting on Noah's cue.

"No thanks. I've seen too much shit to talk anymore. How about you go find dinner somewhere else?"

Puck lifted the gun eye level, his shoulders squared and Rachel watched as he focused on where Blaine was standing. He still managed to bounce a whimpering Beth, the gun steady despite his moving body. Blaine chuckled again.

"You don't have the balls-"

"Take another step I won't give you another option, warbler."

Blaine's laughter grew deviously.

"You know... I can _smell_ her. She smells so… organic; untouched meat. I'm sure everyone else can too... what's the point in running, Puck? Sooner or later there won't be any more places to hide... and we'll be so hungry. It would be easier to just...opt out. You can die a valiant man. But waiting it out? It's like prolonging the inevitable. Just... give me the baby? Give me the baby and save the bullet for yourself. I'll even do it humanely. I'll snap her neck and I'll cook her up. She won't even feel it. I won't even share. I came alone. No one else here but me and you... no one will ever have to know."

Rachel realized at that moment that Blaine didn't know they were inside the market. And she also realized that it was all the confirmation Noah needed. He needed to know if Blaine was alone... Noah needed to know if he would need more bullets.

The gunshots that followed Blaine's incessant negotiation snapped her out of the trance. It only took two shots. She jumped at the impact, and she heard the first bullet go through flesh, the second through bone and then silence. It echoed in her ears right before Noah told her to unlock the door over the sound of Beth's angry wailing and the resonating ring of two dead on gunshots.

She slid her lock unlocked at the gruff order and Santana unbolted hers quickly after. When Noah pushed the door open, a blur of blonde zipped by them. Quinn grabbed at him and tried to unsnap the harness from his shoulders, apologies on her tongue.

"I'm so sorry...I-I dozed off...It was only one minute…I didn't- I heard gunshots. Is she okay? Puck, are you okay? I-"

Quinn choked on her words. Quinn pulled Noah in for a tight hug, Beth crying between them. Rachel watched Quinn finally pull Beth out of her carrier, and Noah stepped forward enough for Santana to close the door behind him. Quinn held Beth on her hip, and rubbed circles into the crying infant's back. She checked all of Beth's free skin, and cupped her cheek when she realized that her daughter was just startled. She grabbed Noah and pulled him close. They all stood around them quietly, and they watched Noah let Quinn hug him, again- happy tears freely falling down her face. When Santana locked the door and slid the window shut, Noah pulled away and let his weight fall against it heavily. He looked spent. Like he'd come there on his last breath. Rachel was surprised, to say the least, that Puckerman had managed to find them, and that he got there with his daughter safely held to his chest.

Her attention went back to Quinn, then, as the blonde fell to her knees and clutched her crying baby to her chest, rocking back in forth to soothe her. She was uttering quiet thank you's to Noah, who had finally slid down the metal door to sit; something it looked like he hadn't done in the last four days. He wasn't laughing, or shaking. But they would still have to check to see if he'd been bitten. No matter who he brought with him… he still had to be checked.

"Puck, have you been bitten?"

Santana took the words right out of her mouth. He looked up at her slowly, his tired eyes shifted around the full group of them, Tina and Mike were suddenly beside Sugar, both of them concerned.

"What? No. What's that got to do with anything?"

Rachel looked over at Santana, and nodded her head slightly—hoping Santana understood the silent signal.

"Come on, Puck… we have to check you out."

Santana and Mike both took one of Noah's hands to help him up, and he followed them sluggishly. Quinn had gotten Beth to stop crying, completely captivated with the girl looking up at her through sleepy little eyelids.

"She… she always cries when I hold her."

Quinn doesn't direct it at any of them still standing around her. It was just her and Beth on the floor, and Rachel almost saw the spark of hope in Quinn's eyes, the spark she hadn't seen since the blonde locked herself in the security room four days ago. They all stood in silence and tried not to break the moment, but at the same time they were amazed that Noah had found a way to them; that he had found a way to them with a loved one in tow. It gave her a bit of hope that others they knew could find them too.

Minutes passed in complete silence, and they were all standing around Quinn and Beth by the time Noah, Santana and Mike returned—Mike nodded the all clear behind Noah's back. Quinn stood Beth on shaky feet, amazement lighting her hazel eyes as she watched her daughter wobble on her own legs. Quinn stood beside her and they walked together hand in hand over to the makeshift couches Sugar had set up by the pharmacy. Quinn ushered into a seat and put Beth quietly on her lap, Beth's hand wrapping around two of Quinn's fingers as the toddler stared at all of them. Noah sat down beside her, pulling Beth's bag from off his shoulders and handing it to the blonde.

"She needs to eat. I've been running for three days... we couldn't stop. She needs to be changed too."

Quinn nodded and stood up. Rachel guessed then that Noah might need food and water himself. She needed to busy herself with something to do, to make sure she didn't bombard Noah with questions. They all needed to know what had happened. They all needed to know what was really going on outside.

000 0000 000


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Forgot to post this yesterday, please review.

He'd gotten down a full gallon of water and half loaf of bread in silence. He was almost full, and still—he wanted to vomit. There was still uneasiness in his gut. They were all sitting on cushions and back support pillows in front of the pharmacy counter at the supermarket waiting for him to start talking about where he'd been. About what he'd seen. He'd eaten and drank long enough that Quinn had returned with a cleaner, sleepier version of Beth in her arms, a sippy cup dangling from her itty bitty hand. _He'd made it there_. After everything that happened to him the last few days, he'd gotten away from the outskirts and made his way on foot to where his friends had taken refuge. He made it to a safe place for his daughter, and he even managed to keep them alive doing it. His adrenaline was still pumping, even though his body was thoroughly wiped. He wished he could lie down somewhere and doze off, but his head wouldn't let him forget the crap he'd seen (and done) on the way to the market. He looked to Quinn, who was tracing a finger down Beth's perfect little nose, his baby girl snoring lightly as she gave into sleep-finally.

He'd made it. And even though he succeeded, he felt like he'd lost. What he'd lost, he didn't know yet; but something was gone that had been there before this whole mess. In four days he had done anything he possibly could to get to where he was now. He had killed people to get away from that medical station. Thirty seven people. He reasoned with himself that they were infected. That if he didn't put them down they would follow him. That they would track him and Beth down and he would have failed her. But he made it. And even though making it there was the biggest accomplishment he had ever earned, it still felt like failure. They were all staring at him. They were trying not to ask him the questions they all wanted to. They were waiting for the gruesome truth; the gory detail. It seemed cushy inside the market. They had everything they needed and no one really knew they were inside. He'd been outside in that jungle for days… and they were all waiting to know what to expect. He cleared his throat.

"Shelby called me. She asked me to come with her to that medical station. In case they kept her and she needed somebody to take Beth for the night…she said she was just a little sick."

It was pindrop quiet. He felt like a prophet bringing tales of the new land. He focused on Tina. She was holding onto Mike's hand, and he saw tears in her eyes already, like she was preparing herself to cry at any given moment.

"When we got there, there were army guys everywhere, and everyone had to turn in their car keys and… turn off their cell phones. We had to check in, and wait in line to be lead to these giant white tents."

He gulped. It seemed like so long ago, already. Like he was telling them about some old event, some distant war story where he was supposed to be some hero. He felt like he had to get it out this one time and then he could begin to forget it. They would all know and it wouldn't be his burden anymore. The market was stable. They could make this work. He let his eyes trace over Rachel's face. She sat directly across from him, her hands folded in her lap on top of her skirt; her knuckles white from her squeezing them. Rachel looked afraid. Like she knew that she was about to hear something she couldn't _unhear_.

"When we got there, Shelby started shaking really bad… so the medics lead us over to a different line and they tied her hands behind her back with those plastic pull fisticuffs they use for the kids over at juvie. They told us that it was for everyone's safety. I didn't get it at first, you know—what was going on. They weren't giving us any info, they were just checking people in and drawing blood and taking notes. Everybody was on cots or they were tied down to beds and chairs. Some people were rocking and laughing to themselves and some of them were throwing up. I only knew it was bad when they made Shelby put on a muzzle. Like full on Cannibal Lector facemask. They said she was in stage three, and they bolted her down to a cot. They told me to take Beth to the clean tent and wait for instructions. Around midnight sirens started going off… by the time I got to Shelby's tent, most of the people on the cots were gone. There were guards running around with guns and there were random people just cackling and running around in medical gowns—everything was going to shit. The people waiting in the check in lines were getting rowdy outside. And I was just holding Beth and trying to talk to Shelby. But she was too far gone."

He looked away from Rachel's gaze, then, not sure how the death of her birth mother would affect her. He stared at the tiles before continuing.

"Shelby couldn't keep her hands still and she kept begging me to unlock the muzzle. I did. But when I pulled it off, she tried to take a chunk out of my arm. I didn't know what was going on. Other than the shakes...she seemed normal you know? But when she tried to bite me, I just took a few steps back. She started begging me to hold Beth, to unbuckle her arm restraints. The more I told her no...the angrier she got. I knew that she wasn't Shelby anymore; and I knew that I had to leave. She started laughing really hard, but she looked so sad at the same time. I told her that I would keep Beth safe no matter what."

He looked over at Quinn, who was rocking Beth even though she was already sleeping, before looking back at the floor. He pulled on his knuckles in need of a distraction, refocusing his gaze on a different floor tile.

"It was getting really loud, so I thought about finding a weapon. There were so many empty cars parked outside, the medical station got too crowded and the soldiers couldn't control all the people. And then… people in line for check ins just started biting the soldiers. So the soldiers just started shooting. I had Beth strapped to my chest and all I had was her baby bag. I finally found a gun and some ammo on a fallen soldier by the main tent. Those people were everywhere. The soldiers were just killing as many people as possible. They weren't checking to see who was sick and who wasn't anymore. They were just killing everybody. When I passed by Shelby's tent again... a soldier was standing by her bed. He pulled his gun out and she started begging him not to, telling him she was okay. But he just shot her and left her strapped to that bed. And that was when I ran. I just picked a direction and hoped me and Beth got out."

When he looked up from the floor, Rachel was crying beside Quinn. Quinn let her hand rest on top of Rachel's. He let his eyes travel slowly around the circle. Mike was wiping away Tina's tears, but letting his own fall down his face without wiping them away. Sugar was biting her lip; she looked more confused than worried. Santana and Brittany were quiet beside him, waiting for him to finish telling them how he made it there. He could still see it all in his head. He still felt himself running with Beth strapped to his chest, a gun in his hand. He remembered the noises of flesh tearing from bone, and he remembered gun shots booming in his ears. He remembered the kickback of the pistol. And even the looks on some people's faces when he shot them. He remembered seeing so many people from the clean tent being eaten alive by the sick. He had to shake his head before finding his voice again.

"I had to stay in the woods all night and the next morning because there were people eating dead bodies on the roads. And I tried… I tried to avoid most of them, but some of them saw us and I… I had to put them down before they got to us. Some of them seemed okay, you know? Like Becky. I found a tree to climb that was high enough to see over the medical station, but had enough brush that people wouldn't see us unless they looked long enough. But it was so loud out there, Beth wouldn't stop crying. And Becky heard her. And she stood at the bottom of that tree with blood on her chin and she tried to get me to actually believe that she wasn't sick too. And... and then she started climbing up and I just- I just shot the gun. We got through half the night without anyone else walking by us. That was where I saw Blaine. He had on a medical gown still and he was just wandering around the woods with his nose up. Like he could follow our scent. I almost shot him. I should have. But there were others and I only had five clips. So I let him go and he walked by us, talking to himself and laughing out loud all the way to the main road. I had seen Blaine on the way in with Shelby. I didn't think he would have made it..."

"Who else was there, that we know?"

Sugar finally blurted it out. He sighed. He expected that question.

"No one...important. I saw a few teachers, a few guys from the band. It was mostly blurs of people and...I just had to get out of there. I didn't see any parents, I didn't see anybody from glee. But...most of the sick at the medical station...they fled. When me and Beth finally came down from that tree...everybody was either gone or dead. There were groups of the sick walking the roads, fighting over whatever bodies they could find. But it looked like a lot of them took the main road to Westerville. After the roads cleared, I finally started walking into town. I went straight to my house… I had to make sure they weren't…I had to check."

Santana started rubbing his back. He'd knock her arm off if he didn't need the human contact. His chest got tighter.

"Nobody was home. And I remembered my phone and I turned it on and I got Quinn's messages. I drove my pickup over here... but I didn't want them following me if they were hiding in the stores. I saw them in the woods in groups. They...they set up traps for people; they try to get you to think they're okay and then they snatch you if you fall for it. So me and Beth had to be careful…so I parked a few blocks over and I kept quiet. I didn't think I would make it. We can't go back out there you guys. We have to stay inside and stay away from those freaks. Nobody's safe anymore."

They had all gotten closer to him somehow. Like the cushions and pillows had all been scooted forward so they could all be around him. It was the first time in the last four days he hadn't been terrified.

000 0000 000

Quinn was inside the basement. She forced herself down there when Puck finally passed out. She'd been sitting on that bottom step, watching Puck sleep with Beth resting comfortably on his chest—her thumb tucked in her mouth. She watched the rise and fall of Puck's chest, marveling in how balanced Beth stayed on his belly, Puck's arms wrapped both gently and protectively around their daughter. She had thought she'd still been asleep earlier. She'd convinced herself that she was sleep inside the surveillance room when she heard the gunshots. When she first looked up to see Puck standing at the side door on the security monitor, gun still drawn at a fallen Blaine Anderson, two bullet holes clean in his face and shoulder—she thought she had fallen asleep and was forced into this cruel world where all these things were possible. She thought she was dreaming when she heard her daughter crying. But there was a tug in her stomach that told her she was really hearing her baby, and she realized that the gunshots were what woke her up—and that her daughter was right outside.

She ran as fast as she could to the side door, her heart ricocheted around her rib cage until she had her daughter in her arms. She loved Puck more in that moment than any other before it. She changed and cleaned Beth with what was inside her baby bag. She let her drink Pedialite from her sippy cup until she finally fell asleep, the cup dangling precariously from her itty bitty fingertips. She didn't care what happened to the world...Beth was safe.

When she found the group again, she learned what exactly had happened to the people in Lima; what she assumed happened to the entire country, now. Puck's retelling of his last few days outside had filled in so many of the gaps. She'd never doubt Noah Puckerman again. She knew that he would grow up to be a great man. She knew that if she let him be a father, he would have proven to be a wonderful one. Everything he had done in the last few days confirmed it.

The step above her creaked. Rachel drifted down slowly, both of her hands lightly grazing the narrow stairwell as she stepped down past the step Quinn was sitting on to take a seat beside her. Quinn made no protests. Rachel had been ducking her head into the security room the last couple days, trying to coax her from her hiding spot politely. There was a pang in her chest she chose to ignore each time Rachel came looking for her; and Quinn had told herself that she couldn't afford any emotional attachments here. She couldn't afford hope a few days ago. Most of her hope had dissipated; gone like the residents of this town. Her tomorrows looked grim, and it only burned question marks in her brain. She had these games she played with herself to make the situation lighter...lies she had convinced herself of to keep herself from falling into the depths of really _knowing_.

Her hope came back strapped to the chest of the man lying on the giant basement bed. All the things she had been worried about were no longer worries. She found faith again in Puck's heroic struggle to bring back the baby girl she'd given away for a better life. Only to have Beth brought back to her with promises of a dismal future... an infected one.

But tomorrow wasn't here yet, so she basked in the comfort of knowing that her daughter hadn't been left for dead...or worse. Rachel sighed beside her. It was loud enough to break her from her thoughts.

"I'm happy that you got her back, Quinn. If anyone, it needed to be you."

Rachel spoke quietly. She whispered her words even though Puck and Beth were so exhausted they wouldn't hear them.

"Why do you say that?" Quinn's own voice felt foreign.

Rachel shrugged. She had iPod earphones dangled around her neck; music lightly drifted through the buds and tickled Quinn's ears with a song that seemed like a familiar stranger.

"Well, everyone else in the market has someone. When something like this happens, you need someone to lean on, someone to carry these burdens with you. Without that connection, you give up. There is no reason to keep going when you don't have anything lighting the end of your tunnel."

Quinn thought about it momentarily.

"Well, what about you? Who do you have?"

Rachel smiled.

"I have my music. I have all this; right now. I'm in here and I am safe...and every day I'm still here, I'm still safe. I'm alive; and even if this is the end... I'm here with people I knew from before. And Noah has even proved that there may be others. I may get lucky and my fathers are okay. Someone dear and near to me who isn't already here may still knock on that door. And as long as I have faith in that; and as long as we go uninfected, I can believe in tomorrow. Beth is your tomorrow... she's your reason to keep going. She's even gotten you out of that security room."

They both giggled at that. The smile seemed strange on Quinn's lips, like her mouth had forgotten how to make them in the short time they'd been there. It wilted from her face moments later, her next question frowning her features solemnly.

"What if there's nothing after this? What if there is no help? What if this is all we have to look forward to?"

Rachel sighed. The song that had been playing subtly over her earphones had changed, a slow and haunting melody wafted to Quinn's ears now- this song unfamiliar as well, but fitting. Rachel looked at her then, determination in her eyes that reminded her so much of days before these last few, when that spark in Rachel's deep browns meant that she was going to get whatever she wanted, no matter what.

"We still have this. And the infected people outside...they're hungry. Sooner or later they'll starve. We don't know what will happen. All we can do is be prepared for an escape. Or a fight. We fight until we can't fight anymore. We live until there is no other option."

Quinn never knew why Rachel was so easy to open up to. She didn't understand why the girl sitting beside her on the stairs brought her comfort when nothing else could. She took Rachel's hand quietly, words no longer necessary, and she linked their fingers together in reassurance. They sat that way for a while, watching Puck and Beth sleep with the occasional squeeze of their hands.

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End file.
